Poker Face
by Bundapunny
Summary: "No matter where you are, always keep a good poker face. Sometimes, a trick may fail, but you mustn't bring that to the audience's attention." That's the motto. The motto his father told him. The motto he's been following. The motto that's been helping him with his magic tricks. But most of all, it's the motto that's failing him now.


**Beta-read by Hikagi and Daydreamer1412. Thank you so much!  
**

* * *

_"No matter where you are, always keep a good poker face. Sometimes, a trick may fail, but you mustn't bring that to the audience's attention."_

* * *

That's the motto. The motto his father had told him. The motto he's been following. The motto that's been helping him with his magic tricks.

But most of all, _it's the motto that's failing him now._

* * *

"Kaito, wait for me!" Aoko yells, her arms flailing.

He shakes his head. "Hurry up, or I'll leave you behind!" Then he continues to walk away.

Frowning, Aoko runs faster to catch up to him. And once she does, she hits him.

"What was that for?!"

"I told you to wait up!"

"Alright, let's pretend it's my fault," he sarcastically says.

She scoffs. "Like it isn't!"

He laughs at her and runs, leaving her behind again.

"Come back here, _Bakaito_!"

"No way, _Ahoko_!"

* * *

She finally catches up to him. She looks around, finding out that they're near a lake that's close her house.

She turns left and right, looking for Kaito. She finds him beside the lake, smiling at the water.

She blushes as her heart skips a beat. She goes to him and sits down.

A few minutes later, he stands up and dusts his pants. "Well, that's about all the time we have."

She follows suit as he walks to the direction of her house.

She takes a deep breath. Nodding to herself, she mutters, "Let's do this."

* * *

"I-I love y-you, Kaito! I really do!" she stammers, her face flushed.

Her hands are clutching the hem of her skirt—she's definitely nervous about this. She bites her lip and faces downwards, avoiding eye contact.

Aoko Nakamori is his childhood friend. He likes her, of course, but not as much as she likes him.

He doesn't want to hurt her. He doesn't want to see her pained face. He doesn't want her to feel sad…

But he doesn't want to lie, either.

Lying meant that he would stay by her side, not giving her the love she deserves. Lying means he would put up an act, completely deceiving her. Lying would probably stop her from finding a better guy. Lying means he'd be ruining his happiness for hers. Lying means their friendship would end and step up to another level.

And he doesn't want any of that.

Evidently, his feelings for her aren't that strong.

But still, her face as she said those seven words stopped him.

She _loves _him. _Ever since we were ten, _she said a while ago. She confessed everything. From when she had started to love him up to how she blushes so hard whenever he peeks at her underwear.

And yet, all he manages to do is to stare into space. He stares, and stares – as if there's no tomorrow. He doesn't know what to do. On the inside, mixed feelings are confusing him. Yet on the outside, all he has is a poker face.

The poker face is supposed to help him. It's supposed to help him fool his enemies. It's supposed to help him add more mystery to his magic tricks. It's supposed to help him stall – to give him time to _plan _his next move.

It's become a normal thing to him now. The poker face always helps him.

So why doesn't it work now?

* * *

Aoko pauses, feeling uncomfortable with his silence.

All this time, she has thought _maybe_—just _maybe_—he likes her, too. All those dinners, picnics, movie marathons, gifts, souvenirs, everything! Maybe she had misunderstood.

But what makes him _not _like her? Is it because she isn't pretty? Is it because she's too noisy? Is it because she doesn't have a–a "hot body" like Kaito describes famous women? What is it?

_Maybe I'm just wasting his time, _she thinks.

And with that she looks up, smiling at him nervously. "A-Ah, never mind! F-Forget about that! I s-should go n-now… B-bye!"

Leaving him alone, she runs away.

* * *

That night, he stays up, thinking how stupid he had been.

_Shit, I messed up. Why didn't I say something? I should've apologized or said something about how **I** feel. _

He holds his cell phone, contemplating whether to call her or not. He wants to say sorry, one way or another. Then he says, "I'll probably just end up lying to her." So he puts his phone down, still feeling like he's the biggest idiot ever.

* * *

She stays up, thinking of what she did that's wrong.

_Did I choose a wrong time? Should I have waited a little longer? Should I have done it sooner?_

She stands up, finishing her dinner. She heads to her room to finish her homework. She can't concentrate; she's heart-broken, of course. _Seven years of loving him and he didn't have any words for it. _

Then, she thinks about him. From the day she met him, to the day she realized her feelings for him. And from there, to today—to right now. Everything's hard on her part. It isn't easy to keep an overwhelming feeling to just herself. She does a great sacrifice to not tell anyone about it; she didn't even write in her diary!

But there she goes, successfully doing those.

Seven long years, she keeps her feelings. Seven long years, she doesn't say anything. Seven long years, she never becomes obvious.

And everything goes to waste.

_I shouldn't have confessed. What was I thinking? Of course he wouldn't like someone like me_.

* * *

On her notebook, she writes everything about her feelings and confession. She writes what's seven years worth of emotions.

She writes one last word before heading to her deep slumber.

She holds a knife and begins cutting.

She brings it up, slowly sliding through her arm.

_Just one last before I go, _she tells herself.

She grabs the knife as if her life depends on it. And it does; her life does depend on it.

She places it by her wrists, cutting deep.

She struggles with the pain. She wants to run out of her room and get a first aid kit. She wants to yell her father's name and ask for help. She still wants to live, somehow. But a bigger part of her tells her, "It's time, Aoko."

A few minutes later, her deep slumber begins.

* * *

Clad in black, he stares at her body.

His poker face is failing him again. Yesterday, he wanted to express his feelings. Today, he wants to do the same thing.

He grabs a vase filled with flowers—his first action since he came.

He raises it and aims at the ground beneath him.

Glass shards spreads throughout, wounding everyone—_everything_—in its way.

"Stupid poker face," he hisses, gritting his teeth.

He doesn't want to follow that stupid motto anymore. Failing him twice is enough.

He breaks down crying, wishing for her to come back.

He screams in anger; his anger towards no one but himself.

He throws tantrums for hours as if it would help her come back to life.

Yet he knows that she never will.


End file.
